Chapter 4: Gold Spoon Experience (4)

“Next month marks the fifth anniversary, miss.”

…So he passed away quite some time ago. The mood in my head suddenly turned cold. I was hit with guilt over having been so cheerful earlier. I scrambled to patch things up.

“Right, of course. I’ve just… been missing him more lately.”

The girl, probably about my age, who’d been tidying the table paused at those words. That reaction was new. But she said nothing, simply bowed and left the room after finishing up. I let out a sigh and collapsed face-down on my bed.

Aaaaargh, I don’t know anymore! Okay, so this body’s father is dead, and the mother isn’t my biological one, right? The rest… well, I’m faking amnesia, so I guess I’ll wing it somehow!

…But that decision leads to utter disaster the very next day.

* * *

“The doctor will be visiting in the afternoon. Don’t worry and just rest up.”

“Yes, thank you…”

As soon as I got up in the morning, Mother came into my room and said that. Then she instructed the maids to bring me a breakfast twice the size of my usual portion, an enormous spread, and left the room with a kind farewell after confirming I had started eating.

Thank goodness. If she had stayed to watch me eat, I might’ve gotten indigestion…

Left alone, I continued my meal. The clear stew, the thick sandwich, and even the refreshing green juice, whatever was in that, tasted absolutely amazing. Seems like this body isn’t frail after all. Even though I just woke up, my stomach is handling everything just fine.

I was nearly finished eating, musing over the theory that ‘the original owner of this body just wanted to be a lazy, selectively sick homebody,’ when, as had become the routine over the past week, the staff entered after politely knocking. Among them was the young girl who had told me about my father yesterday. Her presence reminded me of the awkward mood from before, and I involuntarily sobered up a bit.

Anyway, I figured they were here to clear the table and help me wash up, but the woman standing at the front unexpectedly handed me an envelope. It was a luxurious blue with a gold-embossed border, a design that looked expensive, no, beautiful. 

I took it without thinking, and the woman explained, “Young Lady, Lord Moore has sent you a letter.”

I nearly dropped it.

I was torn between the urge to rip it open to read it immediately and the desire to open it so carefully that not a single scratch would mar the envelope. In the end, I frantically but delicately opened it.

Inside was an elegant letter written in deep navy ink on pure white paper, in a graceful hand.

[To Miss Rose Aubert,

The season shines, as the summer solstice nears.

I had hoped our meeting would be as lovely as the season itself, but unfortunately, circumstances have made that impossible.

It pains me greatly and fills me with concern.

Madame Zauer has informed me that it is due to the usual matter.

The news I promised during our brief encounter is enclosed here, along with my heart.

I earnestly hope for your full recovery and that we may meet again soon.

Your faithful fiancé,

Lucas Moore]

This is the most extravagantly worded, overly formal letter I’ve ever received in my life.

So… Madame turned him down on my behalf, saying I was sick, and now he’s expressing his regret? It feels like I’m reading a passage from a modern literature textbook.

If this were a romance visual novel, he would’ve scored more points by just including a photo of himself. That thought wouldn’t leave my head, but then I imagined a handsome man carefully composing this letter and suddenly everything was wonderful.

He probably wrote this while wondering how to phrase it, didn’t he? Ugh, it’s over. His face alone already wins.

With that happy daydream still in my head, I grabbed the envelope and headed toward the study. Or I tried to, until one of the staff who brought the letter stopped me.

“Madame recommends you remain in your room and rest until the doctor arrives.”

That overprotective vibe, it has to be referring to my mother. Now that I think about it, the letter did mention Madame as well. Let’s test this again.

“Madame Zauer?”

“…Yes, that’s correct.”

So she really is my mother. I guess she even turned away that handsome visitor. What a shame.

Wait, then didn’t I just call my mother by her name and title like she was a stranger? But the staff member only paused for a moment and didn’t seem especially disturbed. So she really is a stepmother he remarried into? Is my K-drama intuition right?

“If you tell us which book you’d like, we’ll bring it to you.”

I was so caught up in my theorycrafting that I nearly blurted out the title of one of those spicy romance novels I usually read. Thankfully, I managed to give them the name of a magazine instead. As soon as the staff left, I dove back onto the bed, still holding the envelope.

Then something rolled out of the opened envelope. It sparkled… Could it be a ring? Is it really a ring?

But no, I was getting ahead of myself. What came out was a small, beautifully crafted crystal vial and a shimmering silver teaspoon. Even the spoon was engraved with an elegant design of flowering vines. What kind of gift is this?

I picked up the crystal vial first. It sloshed lightly, filled with liquid. The small bottle, no bigger than two fingers wide, was sealed with what looked like a cork. When I opened it, I found a tiny rolled-up slip of paper tucked into the underside of the lid.

Somehow untouched by the liquid, maybe it was waxed, the note unfolded to reveal neat handwriting:

[Instructions for Sedative

Stir half a teaspoon into water or black tea and drink.

Do not take with dairy products or alcohol.

I sincerely hope it helps.]

Wow. My jaw dropped.

I never imagined he’d actually go out and get this for me in just a day after I mentioned memory loss yesterday. And he even included a silver teaspoon for measuring and stirring? Incredible. What kind of efficiency and thoughtfulness is this?

Looking more closely, the handwriting on the note looks exactly like the one from the letter. And sure enough, when I compared them, they’re identical. Wait, he wrote this too? Unreal. He’s got the face, the wealth, the youth, and even the personality. Who knew a man could embody every main lead trait in a historical drama?

Well, I’m not really suffering from amnesia, so I won’t be drinking the medicine, but I’ll definitely be putting that teaspoon to good use. I tucked both the sealed vial and the spoon into the pocket under my skirt. They were small, so they fit snugly.

Honestly… it feels like I won an official limited-edition piece of merchandise from an idol’s fan event. I wiped my nose and basked in a strange sense of accomplishment and pride.

I put the rest of the letter, the envelope, and the note into a drawer in the study attached to my bedroom. Just then, the staff returned with a stack of magazines. I spent a relaxed time reading through them until the doctor arrived.

The doctor came shortly after I finished lunch. And just like that, my whole ‘amnesia’ act crumbled pathetically.

* * *

“Miss Aubert, could you tell me about the most memorable event from last month?”

“…”

This was bad. I thought they’d ask when and how my head hurts, or what I can’t seem to remember. But instead, they asked me the opposite. What do I remember? I forced out a reply.

“While I was out on a walk… I saw a rose glowing in the sunset. I think it was very beautiful… Yes, that’s what I remember.”

I saw something similar just yesterday, so surely I must’ve seen one sometime last month too, especially since I go for walks here every day. 

But the doctor glanced between me and the chart in his hand with a concerned look and said cautiously, “According to the records, your walks last month were in the morning.”

“…”

I’m screwed.